The Last of the Hopeless Romantics
by ketii
Summary: My first fic. Based around the time of Order of the Phoenix. Secrecy, relationships, love, jealousy! Also, if you don't want to read the first chapter, you don't have to :P you'll still get the story, chapter 1 is basically just character establishment. :
1. The Prefect

_Clunk. Clunk._

Lorri Darlington's shoes were too big for her, and they easily managed to cause a loud stomping noise to erupt from below her black robes every time she placed her foot, no matter how gently, on the polished wooden staircase heading in the direction of North Tower.

_Clunk. Clunk._

Despite the high volume of the sound her shoes were creating and the fact that it was causing several curious faces to appear from behind the classroom doors she passed in an attempt to identify the source of the noise, Lorri was not distracted in the slightest.

_Clunk. Clunk._

She possessed a large amount of stationary in her arms, and these fragments of neatly-cut pale pink parchment were so numerous that their presence seemed to be weighing Lorri down somewhat, as her face was only visible from above the nose. The fact that these papers had also been charmed to become musical flyers and proceeded to leap into the chorus of a high-pitched tune at increasing volume and tempo with each of Lorri's clomping footsteps proved to add to the distraction she was presenting to the classes which were surrounding her as she walked.

_Clunk. Clunk._

Her long auburn hair had been slung lazily into a low ponytail and her fringe was falling haphazardly across her forehead and occasionally her eyes, at which instance she would expel a harsh breath upwards in an attempt to clear her face of her hair.

_Clunk. Clunk._

Lorri's stomping became steadily more rapid as she began to jog towards a tall oak door that had emerged into her view on the far end of the corridor up which she was currently travelling. Though her mouth was not visible beyond the mountain of parchment overflowing in her arms, the unmistakable twinkle in her eyes made it apparent that Lorri was smiling.

_Clunk. Clunk._

When at last she had reached the sweeping shadow of the formidable-looking oak door, Lorri hesitated. She examined the numerous sheets of parchment currently in her grasp and, following a few moments of obvious thought, she kicked the door.

The thunderous sound that vibrated throughout the wide and almost empty corridor as a result of the connection between the towering door and Lorri's oversized shoe caused her to stumble backwards a few paces. Lorri could hear the immediate eruption of chatter within the room beyond the door, and the cacophony of sound increased dramatically as the elderly, gold plated knob rotated and the door swung open.

A disgruntled Minerva McGonagall was peering down at Lorri from behind her carefully balanced glasses, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Miss Darlington, what _do _you think you're doing?"

"Happy Valentines Day in advance, Professor!" Lorri squealed up at the scowling Transfiguration teacher, striding directly past her into the classroom, apparently undeterred by McGonagall's obviously angered facial expression.

Professor McGonagall released a heavy sigh as Lorri dropped the pile of parchment onto the teacher's desk with quite some force and beamed at McGonagall's class – a particularly confused-looking group of second years. Lorri's toothy grin remained intact despite the fact that several of her flyers had fallen to the cold floor with a soft _thud _as a result of being practically thrown at the desk at the front of the room. Many of them were now reciting their sickly tune at an even higher pitch than heard in the corridor outside.

"Professor, I have a wonderful announcement that I just _must _make to your class", Lorri stated excitedly in a sing-song voice, without even glancing at McGonagall, but rather continuing to smile at the second years. The Professor merely adjusted her glasses, shooed the now screeching flyers from her chair with a simple flick of her wand and sat, arms folded.

"Very well, Lorrien, just make it – " But before she could finish, Lorri had eagerly snatched up a number of the flyers from the desk and was handing one to each of the students in McGonagall's class.

"It's truly exciting, and it's never happened before!" Lorri squeaked to the room. "I'm _really _delighted to announce that this year, the Hogwarts prefects, including myself, have organised a party in order to rightly celebrate the happiness and romance that is Valentines Day."

Intrigued and excited rumours had hatched around the room as Lorri had said the word 'party', but the vast majority of these whispers had deteriorated with her final words. A significant number of the students were now gazing at Lorri as though she was an after-product of the rear explosion of a Blast-Ended Skrewt, but Lorri appeared unperturbed.

"It's a good idea to get a partner, but this isn't really compulsory because it's a party rather than a ball." She took gentle hold of the slightly grubby prefect's badge pinned lopsidedly on the front of her robes as she continued her speech. "While teachers will be present at the party (several groans, many of them of the male orientation, suddenly echoed throughout the room), prefects are the main organisers of this event, so if you have any questions, feel free to come to me or any other of the prefects available. All other important details are available on the flyer you've just been given."

Lorri finished her rant with a grin that spanned from ear to ear, despite the fact that a boy in the corner of the room was holding his flyer between his thumb and forefinger at an exaggerated distance from himself with an expression of deep repulsion on his face. Lorri's utter delight at her own announcement was only broken by the calm voice but slightly flustered face of Professor McGonagall.

"Thankyou, Lorrien." She said plainly. Lorri spun around and grinned at her Head of House.

"Thankyou, Professor!" she rambled as she frantically gathered her remaining flyers. "I'll see you there, Professor! With quite a handsome partner of your own, no doubt!"

"That's enough, Lorrien." Mcgonagall uttered, making every attempt to make her voice sound its usual stern self, though there was the tiniest hint of pink discolouration in her cheeks.

Now clutching the total of the flyers she hadn't handed out, Lorri skidded towards the door. It was still ajar, and she pushed it almost violently with her hip and slid through, back into the wide corridor. McGonagall adjusted her glasses slightly once more, cleared her throat and looked up towards her class, all of whom remained to share similar confused or somewhat disgusted expression as they listened to the prefect make her echoing and impossible to ignore way back down the corridor.

_Clunk. Clunk._


	2. The Quarrel

Marcella Bell's eyes lazily scanned the contents of her half-full cauldron. The depressing damp of the colourless dungeon was making her sleepy, and the fact that she was in Double Potions first thing on a Monday morning had forced her to be in a particularly bad mood. She raised her eyes to the blackboard and reread step 3 of the tedious instructions Professor Snape had provided in order for the class to brew an effective Shrinking Potion.

Add three small drops of Salamander Blood and stir once anti-clockwise. Then add a dash of Eye of Newt and allow to simmer for exactly seven minutes. Stir continuously for another four minutes.

'Eye of Newt,' she thought to herself, 'how.. _medieval_.'

She had just allowed her potion to simmer for the required amount of time and was beginning to stir when she could suddenly feel the distinct presence of somebody standing in front of her, their piercing eyes boring through both Marcella and her bubbling cauldron. Marcella raised her head immediately and her gaze was met by the cocky smirk of Draco Malfoy. She gasped slightly due to surprise, and the two remained still for a few moments, the flaming torches hanging on the walls surrounding them causing flickers of soft light to illuminate patches of his perfectly set in place blond hair.

"I need the Newt." He said eventually, a snarl dancing across his pale face. Marcella raised an eyebrow and blinked.

"Take it." She replied blankly with an air of contempt. Malfoy stared at her for another second before slowly reaching over her cauldron towards the glass jar containing the Eye of Newt. Though his head was now facing the floor, she felt as though his greyish eyes were drilling holes in her shoes. When finally he had turned to leave, Marcella watched him practically strut away across the dungeon floor and frowned with dislike. Her eyes followed him as he returned to his own cauldron, his hair still completely in place. She grunted angrily under her breath and shifted her attention back to her Shrinking Potion, her fingers now wrapping themselves gently around one of her messily-tied plaits.

The cold and almost eerie dungeon was abuzz with chatter five minutes later as Marcella was adding the final touches to her slightly off-colour potion. She was just about to carry her sample over to Snape's desk ready to be marked when another interruption came in the form of a short succession of rapid but very loud steps outside the room, followed by a horrendous crash which sounded as though a bull had just ran at and collided with the door in an attempt to smash into the dungeon. The Potions class fell immediately silent, and all eyes were now focused on Snape, who had previously been antagonising a tiny boy with mousy brown hair and large eyes about the poor quality of his stirring technique. Now, the Professor was sweeping towards the dungeon door in a flash of black robes but, when he had opened the door and proceeded to search up and down the corridor with his glaring eyes for the origin of the noise, he seemed somewhat confused. Rather than finding a large animal or man standing in the doorway as suggested by the immense level of the sound, a copper-haired young girl rolled into the room. The cold stone floor around the girl was littered with sheets of pale pink parchment, her robes were patched with dirt and slightly torn across her left knee. The deep red tendrils of her hair were bedraggled. She looked as though she had just taken a bad tumble.

"Oh! Oh, Professor! I'm so _very _glad you're here!" The girl squeaked up at the towering Snape, "I – I… I saw your door and – well, I got a little carried away and I started to run and – and I sort of – well, sort of stumbled a bit and er… Here I am!"

The girl was now scrambling awkwardly to her feet, and Marcella grinned as she realised that the interruption to her Potions class with the Slytherins was in fact Lorri Darlington, a fellow Gryffindor and somebody that Marcella liked very much. Lorri was now standing upright in the dungeon doorway, beaming as though falling over and colliding with the heavy door was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her. She was also smiling expectantly at Snape who, on the other hand, was glowering at her.

"And just what exactly is the purpose of this completely inappropriate interruption to my class, Miss Darlington?" He snarled down at her.

"Well – er, Sir, I have an announcement to make to your class." Lorri replied, the hint of discomfort in her voice contrasting with her smile. Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Then I strongly advise that you make it brief, Miss Darlington, because frankly, I am positive that the remainder of my lesson is far more valuable to these students than whatever it is that you have to say."

Lorri flinched slightly, but then began to slowly weave herself around cauldrons within the dungeon, handing out her flyers and starting to speak in what sounded like a lower voice than usual.

"Er – well, the Prefects, as you can see on the flyer you've just been given, have organised an event… Er – a party, to celebrate Valentines Day in all its glory."

It was at this point that Professor Snape gave a soft yet perfectly audible scoff at the front of the room. Lorri halted for a short moment, then proceeded to continue with her announcement.

"Um… Partners, yes… Well, you can invite somebody if you like…"

Lorri's voice had faded into oblivion as Marcella's eyes had fallen upon Draco Malfoy again. He was clutching his flyer gingerly and had draped his arm across Pansy Parkinson's shoulders, who was currently giggling shrilly, apparently at something hilarious that Malfoy had just said. Marcella furrowed her brow as thoughts of the Valentines Day party emerged in her mind, and the fact that she knew perfectly well that any fun that could possibly be had there would almost certainly be punctured by the presence of the Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy.

"… So, er – yes…" Lorri was still speaking as Marcella fell hard back to reality. "If you er – have any questions about Valentines Day or the party, whether or not to get your partner a present, for example-" From the other end of the dungeon, Snape scoffed once again. Lorri stopped in her tracks, forced quiet mid-sentence. She then looked down to her oversized shoes, took a sharp breath and resumed her speech for the second time. "Then er… we Prefects are hear to um – answer them for you." She was now heading in the direction of the door, her steps rapid and her head facing the floor, indicating that her announcement had come to an end. "I look forward to seeing you all on Valentines Day, perhaps the most glorious day of the whole year!"

As Lorri's hand (which was sporting a nasty graze as a result of her earlier fall) was outstretched towards the doorknob, a quietly vicious chuckle floated up from behind Professor Snape's desk and echoed throughout the dungeon. Lorri froze. After a few seconds of staring at her feet, she slowly turned and raised her head in the direction of the smug Potions teacher.

"Something wrong, Professor Snape?"

Marcella's eyes widened at Lorri's question, but Snape's only narrowed further. They were now simply dark slits creating a break in the gaunt white skin on his face.

"Miss Darlington," he said, "I merely find it amusing that you place such an amount of faith in what is so obviously a _scam_."

Marcella could easily tell that he had taken great pleasure in hissing the word 'scam' at Lorri, who was now biting her lip and fiddling with the remaining few flyers in her hands.

"A… _scam_, Professor?" She asked, her voice wavering.

"That's correct, Miss Darlington, a scam. Valentines Day is a manufactured celebration which is really only of any importance to stupidly infatuated adolescent couples and Muggles of very low intelligence."

Lorri's hands were shaking now and she was breathing harshly through her nostrils.

"Er… hmm… I – I believe you're wrong about that, Professor." She murmured. Snape raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Lorri took a hesitative step forward. "V – Valentines Day is a time to spend with the people you care about the – the most… And also to tell those you love how you feel about them and the place they have in your heart." She stopped to draw breath, and waited anxiously for Snape's response, though once again, none came. At the realisation that he was going to remain slient, Lorri continued. "And – And it's a time for the magical community to express love for one another through magic, not just _Muggles of very low intelligence_, Sir…" Her voice had grown somewhat stronger as she drew to the conclusion of her second speech of the lesson. She now stood nervously in the doorway of the dungeon, staring at Snape, her eyes wide and her feet shuffling on the spot with an obvious degree of fear. The Professor kept her gaze for several seconds, until finally he drawled,

"That is fifty points from Gryffindor, Miss Darlington, for interrupting my lesson inappropriately and deliberately provoking an argument with a teacher. Now leave, I am growing steadily more weary of your presence in my classroom."

Lorri gasped slightly and immediately skidded towards the door, into the stone corridor and out of sight. Marcella suddenly came to realise that her mouth was hanging open, and she promptly brought her hand up to her jaw. She looked around the room at her fellow students and noticed that they too were expressing looks of either shock or restrained amusement. As Professor Snape heaved himself up from behind his desk and forced the class silent with his formidable stance, Marcella couldn't keep her eyes from falling upon Draco Malfoy once more. She was slightly surprised to see that, while Pansy Parkinson was making every effort to engage him in conversation by frequently stroking his arm and giggling loudly, Malfoy was staring intently at the base of the open doorway, directly at the patch of floor that Lorri had rolled into the dungeon on.


	3. The Interruption

Lorri was breathing quickly, though the crimson patches marking delighted exhaustion were present on her cheeks. Having successfully delivered all of the five hundred Valentines Day flyers she had spent the entire morning creating and then charming, the mountain of papers she had been supporting all day was now gone. Its absence had revealed Lorri's faintly scarlet yet welcoming face; she sported a continuous grin set upon well-rounded cheeks and almond-shaped, chestnut hued eyed. Her cheerful demeanour was reflected through her habit of seldom denying anybody she encountered with a broad and toothy beam. She appeared as though she were perpetually smiling to herself, perhaps imagining something trivial that had happened last week. Her hair, auburn, was now laying in thick (though somewhat knotted) tendrils around her face, the low-slung ponytail she usually wore had been defeated when he she had clumsily plunged herself through the ancient dungeon door and into Potions. She was yet to repair the frayed slit in her robes which was a result of her tumble, though a tiny bead of blood was escaping the graze on her knee and staining them, she didn't care. Her thoughts were focussed on Valentines Day, the party she had been furiously working towards for over three months. She was anxious to return to the Gryffindor common room, she was desperate to siphon the ideas she had from within her mind onto a fresh sheet of parchment.

'I can't use mistletoe on Valentines Day, can I? Oh dear…' She was muttering to herself. She scratched her forehead quizzically and slowed her pace through the bare corridor in order to recollect her thoughts. While her fractionally shabby appearance and overly optimistic, energetic air forced her to be perceived as ditzy by many of her fellow students, it was undeniable that Lorri had passion. Her undying faith and hope in all things romantic, loving and even lame and cheesy was the driving force behind all of her schemes and even the majority of her actions in everyday schooling life. The quarrel she had earlier shared with Professor Snape was a result of this passion; Lorri could not bear to hear anybody speaking ill of the things she held so true. It was also because of this passion that Lorri had been appointed (much to the confusion of other students) as a Prefect at the beginning of the year. Her appearance argued otherwise, but Lorri's frequent presence of happiness made her a very good and very determined Prefect.

'Um… Um…' She was still rotating ideas over and over within her mind as she bit her lip and continued to wander in the direction of Gryffindor tower. She was midway through analysing the notion of real, though mild, love potions being available at the party's dinner (she hastily dismissed this idea as she fell upon the thought of mass drink spiking, something she herself would greatly approve of, though the teachers might have had a slightly different opinion) when she heard quickened steps behind her. Lorri remained in deep thought, uttering to herself and strolling lazily past a suit of armour, and her Valentines Day trance seemed to render her temporarily deaf.

'Lorri? Hey, Lorri!' When Lorri shook herself alert, it seemed that the voice had been calling to her for some time. She swiftly turned and saw Ben Vinely, a Gryffindor in her own year and a friend of Lorri's rushing towards her, though he looked somewhat odd, as his hands were stuffed into his pockets.

'Benjamin?' Lorri looked him up and down as he slowed to a halt before her. He seemed breathless, as though he had been running for a long time.

'Hi, Lorri.' Despite his apparent rush to meet her, Ben was merely standing in front of Lorri now. She gazed at him expectantly, and he must have become aware of her bewilderment, because his eyes widened suddenly and he reached furiously into the interior of his robes. It was at several long moments before his hand emerged, clutching one of Lorri's flyers, its previously shrill verse had mutated into a deep, slow chant. Ben was grinning crookedly, though he still didn't speak. During the silence, Lorri absentmindedly noticed that he needed a haircut. His coffee coloured hair was comically windswept and long enough to require him to frequently brush it out of his eyes. He was very tall, towering at least a foot over Lorri, and was looking down at her through pale jade eyes.

'Benjamin? Are you alright?' She was giving him her customary grin, encouraging him to speak to her, to tell her why he had been running and why he had interrupted her determined attempts at mental preparation for the Valentines Day party. Ben was now exchanging his glance between Lorri and the flyer he clutched. The only sound evident was that of the flyer's deep hymn. Eventually, Ben coughed and made to speak.

'Uh… This is you, isn't it, Lorri? I mean… You're organising this?' He was brandishing the flyer before Lorri's face. Immediately, her beam spread and her eyes brightened.

'Oh yes! It's me… And the other prefects, of course. Why, are you interested in helping out?'

'Ah no, it's not that… I was just wondering.' He then thrust his hand back into his pocket, muffling the flyer's song and renewing the silence. He stood before the perplexed Lorri for another moment before furthering her confusion and taking a small yet troubled step forwards, leaning in towards her.

'Lorri… Do you… remember first year?' His eyes were piercing and focussed, and he spoke strangely slow. Lorri was, despite her puzzlement, still smiling.

'Yes, I do. Why's that, Benjamin?' Upon her answer, he looked down at his shoes.

'Oh, just wondering… Again. You know, you and I were good friends in first year…'

Lorri giggled. 'Well, first year was a long time ago, Benjamin! And our mothers were very close, what with both of them being Healers at St Mungo's! How is your mother anyway, Benjamin? I haven't seen Marion in a very long –'

'Ah, yeah… She's good, but…' Ben shuffled on the spot. It was apparent that he did not wish to discuss his mother at the moment, 'there's something I'd like to know, Lorri… About the party… That is, if I decided to go… Would you be busy during the actual night, you know… during the party? Being hostess or something?'

Lorri paused, her head titled slightly to the left, then grinned and smiled in understanding. She laughed and poked Ben gently on the shoulder. 'Ohh, I see Benjamin, you _do_ want to help! Well, you don't have to worry, you can still assist with the preparations for the party during the earlier part of the evening, and then have plenty of time to have fun with your friends! I'm positive that you'd even have plenty of time to spend with your partner too! I was actually pondering the same problem myself, but I certainly wouldn't deny anybody the privilege of the actual festivities. I'm happy you asked and - oh, I'm _so_ glad you want to help, Benjamin!'

Ben's face was completely inexpressive, and his mouth was slightly open. He seemed to be attempting to comprehend what Lorri had just said to him, and after several mutterings of 'but… help?', he had appeared to regain his composure and was endeavouring to engage Lorri in conversation once more. She was bouncing up and down on the spot, clapping and delighted in her own oblivion, as he began to whisper.

'Lorri, I don't think you –'

But his effort was found to be in vain, because at that moment a third voice had echoed throughout the corridor and penetrated Ben and Lorri's privacy.

'Lorrien!'

Within moments, the origin of the new voice was determined, as Dean Thomas materialised from beyond the suit of armour and stood before the pair. His expression transformed into one of utmost pleasure upon his discovery of Lorri. Ben merely looked stunned.

'Hello Dean, are you here to ask if you can help with the party too?' Lorri's grin was broader than ever, and she remained to be bouncing on the spot, vibrantly gleeful. But Dean didn't respond, he simply stepped forward and gently took Lorri's hand in his. He smiled at her, and then began to speak in a low, quiet voice as Ben observed, a flicker of frustration dancing upon his face.

'Lorrien, there's something I need to ask you.' Dean uttered, staring into his fellow Gryffindor's large, yet unsurprised eyes. Lorri had ceased bouncing, and was watching Dean absorbedly.

'I had a feeling you would ask me soon.' She answered in an equally low voice, though Ben's close proximity allowed their secretive interaction to be entirely audible. Dean's smiled widened.

'So you will… You'll come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?' He was peering at Lorri eagerly. Ben had straightened up hastily, listening intently, though Lorri appeared to have taken no notice of him at all.

'Of course I will…' she whispered the words as though she had been waiting for the question a number of years. Dean's eyes ignited, and he gifted Lorri with a contented smile before releasing her hand and informing her that they would speak of the details later. He had done so much as turned his back and was sauntering his way back past the suit of armour and along the corridor before Lorri shifted her body and attempted to concentrate her attentions upon Ben once more. However, once she turned, she found the spot where he had previously stood bare. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow in bewilderment before she perceived his tall, shadowed figure hurriedly taking the staircase below, hands pushed staunchly in his pockets, evaporating into the distance.


	4. The Kidnapping

Lorri was still dwelling on Ben's fleeting exit as she recommenced her stroll back to Gryffindor tower. Why had he hurried away down the stairs without even so much as a goodbye? She felt a modest sag of disappointment within her chest; she had so hoped to discuss the party with him, wanted to hear of his plans and his opinions of her forming ideas. After all, there wasn't precisely an ardent flock of students motivated to help. Ben's admission that he would like to assist her had inflated Lorri's spirit to a different, new point, even further than her usual state of glee. But, now, she could not dismiss the distracting pang in her stomach, the strong feeling that Ben wouldn't want to even talk to her anymore. Why else would he have vanished so rapidly, so obviously on purpose, if he hadn't had a sudden change of heart? Lorri did not like these thoughts, she deliberately slapped her forehead, as though the gentle _thwack_ would force her negative instincts out from within her mind. She sighed heavily, forced a smile to nobody but the empty corridor and watched her feet as she walked.

She was humming the deep mantra of the Valentines Day flyers as she passed a particularly withered portrait of a decrepit bearded man, his eyes a watery blue. The portrait displayed him slouching lazily in a squashy navy armchair, a pipe slung idly between his thin lips. The portrait's welcoming, snug scene heightened Lorri's mood, and she smiled at the pipe smoking man. She was somewhat nonplussed however, when he did not smile back. Rather, he gazed to the left, the way Lorri had just come, then peered down at her and grunted from behind his pipe,

'You'd wanna make a habit of watchin' behind ya, girlie'

Lorri furrowed her brow. She had opened her mouth to express her confusion at the painted man's words when, to her horror, she felt a clammy, hasty hand grope around at her face and tighten its clutch across her mouth. Within another breathless moment, a second hand had forced its frozen grip upon her forearm. Injected with an instant panic, Lorri systematically writhed and squealed under her icy restraints. Beyond her shrieks, she could faintly hear the frantic voice of the person behind her, holding her still.

'Shh! Quiet!' the voice hissed 'Oh – come on, shutup!'

Lorri's squeaks did not cease. The voice seemed inpatient, desperate.

'Shutup! I'm not going to hurt you… Just calm down so I can speak!'

Lorri's heart was thudding in her throat. Her lower lip was trembling threateningly and, though her fear was still present enough to allow her to whimper underneath the icy grip, her brain began to shift into some kind of focus. Beyond the pressure of her terrified heart, she opened her ears to her restrainer's words; surely it would be a better idea to obey the demands of the person forcing her motionless. The shrill pitch of her protests gradually began to ease into low, quick-breathed gasps. A few moments later, the hands seemed to realise Lorri's increasing calm, and though the frosty grip was not relieved, the tense hold was softened over her mouth. The faceless voice was breathing rapidly, apparently searching for fitting words. Lorri's eyes were large, mind alert, as the voice sighed then began to murmur once more.

'Okay – good… Now listen, I don't want to hurt you… But – but we need to talk…'

Lorri's confusion was silent. She could not recognise the voice as it continued.

'We can – We can go up here…' The voice's final statement seemed to have been directed at itself. Lorri was anxious yet collected as the second clammy hand renewed its pressure on her forearm, and twitched nervously as it began to lead her slowly backwards. Lorri remained quiet due to fear, though the unlikely positioning of she and her captor triggered several painful nudges in ribs and hips as they went. It was very dark now; the feebly pale light of the moon's watch glimmered eerily through the windows and upon the hard wooden floors. Usually, Lorri enjoyed nights like these; the radiance of the moon's beam piercing the darkness would normally have been comforting, now she found it be mocking her.

Lorri was anxious upon the thought that her restrainer may wish her to scale a staircase on the way to their destination; she did not believe her quivering body would be able to heave itself neither up nor down. Her captor's pressured presence behind her forced Lorri to be staggering backwards in an uncomfortable, graceless pose. It was therefore that she was inwardly grateful upon the faceless voice's halt midway through an empty corridor. Lorri was silent; listening fixedly. It was evident that her captor was whispering to itself, expressing the same frenzied hiss over and over again. She remained motionless underneath its clutch, fearful of it stiffening its grip if she made the faintest stir in the wrong direction. She was, however, stunned to realise that her holder was no longer focussed upon Lorri's presence. A large wooden door had materialised within the previously solid stone wall, and her captor was now gifting it with steadfast attentions. Lorri gazed upwardly at the door; she was perplexed, though the door's emergence did not seem to register completely with her; her thoughts remained with her restrainer. Lorri gasped as she was suddenly jolted forwards towards the alien door, and fidgeted as the hand which previously rested upon her forearm gingerly turned the knob and pushed.

The room beyond was small, Lorri would have considered it cosy and inviting had she not been grasped immobile by the nameless hands. Within rested two armchairs, squashy yet obviously new. A petite, spindly legged coffee table was positioned between the cushioned seats. Two steaming mugs were set atop, stirring a pleasant, chocolatey smell within Lorri's nostrils. Noticeably suspended from the tiny room's ceiling was a large, rounded lantern. It was emanating a deep, restful crimson light which bestowed the entire area with a welcoming air of calm. Lorri's puzzlement danced about her mind. Why would the icy hands direct her here? This comfortable, aromatic room? Why would her restrainer wish to lead her somewhere so… Nice?

Lorri's perplexity heightened and her heart once again bound just behind her neck as she felt the

bitter frost of the hands slowly ease, melt away. Her captor was releasing its clutch. Her breath hastened, she was transfixed, her feet seemed to be wedged to the elderly wooden floorboards. She closed her eyes impulsively, as though frantically hoping, wishing that the room, no matter how comfortable, would evaporate and she would awake in her secure, familiar dormitory. Unconsciously, her moist hands tugged and wrenched at her own fingers, a minute tear escaping her determinedly closed eyes and faintly staining her ashen cheek. She was breathless as the drawling whisper behind spoke again.

'You can turn around now.' The voice was would-be calm, though a flicker of anxiety licked the end of the statement. Lorri remained motionless.

'Please…' the voice struggled with the simple word, 'just turn around…'

Lorri inhaled. A great gulp of fresh, aromatic air satisfied her lungs. The voice was still speaking to her back.

'You already know I'm not here to hurt you… Just – just turn… It would end this all a lot faster…'

The voice's concluding words resonated within Lorri's troubled mind. It had expressed her profound desire; she merely wanted to return to Gryffindor tower. The voice was prompting, impatient, but not inciting harm. Lorri gazed upon her oversized shoes, apparently in deep deliberation. She sighed, halfheartedly reassuring herself that the sooner she turned around and acknowledged her captor's identity, the sooner she would be safe in bed, asleep, her dreams removing her from the memory of the icy hands' grasp and the sneering murmur of the faceless voice…

Lorri bit her lip, clutched her own hand tightly and slowly turned.

Before her, the figure from whom the voice had surfaced was dressed in school robes, a scarf wrapped attentively around his neck. His face was pasty, and his hair was arranged perfectly; it appeared somewhat inexplicable in its flawlessness. Lorri stared, mystified, though her fear had begun to gradually drain. In front of her, a few feet away, Draco Malfoy was peering at her apprehensively. He cleared his throat, and the impatience Lorri had realised within his voice was now reflected in his constant movement and furrowed brow.

'Uh – sit down…' he uttered suddenly. Lorri shifted her gaze towards the beckoning armchairs.

'Um… what?' she asked cautiously, 'What is this?'

Malfoy removed his scarf, an irritated edge to his actions.

'This is the Room of Requirement. I required a room to speak to you in, and I this is what I got. This is important, I'd like you to sit down.' His voice was accompanied by a tiny yet audible snarl. Lorri comprehended his slight annoyance and, still eager to return to her house's tower, she tentatively sunk her body onto the edge of the armchair's seat. Immediately, she realised it was even more snug and plush than she had anticipated. Malfoy had sat upon the opposite armchair now and, though his impatience and uneasiness of the situation remained to be evident, he was experiencing trouble meeting Lorri's eyes. Following several silent, tense moments, Lorri started.

'You ah… Need to talk to… Me?' Her eyebrows were raised enquiringly. Malfoy's head remained down.

'Yes,' he stated quickly, 'it's very important.'

Lorri's sensation of fear had now evaporated entirely, and was currently being hastily replaced by an overwhelming air of curiosity.

'Really?' Her eyes were wide. 'What is it that is so very important?'

It was at this point that she was dismissed from interacting with the top of Malfoy's head, as he slowly raised himself, and connected with Lorri's eyes for the first time. Lorri was astounded to observe the expression there. Malfoy's constant impatience and slight irritation had remained intact, though now there was something different, an air of inquisitiveness, discomfort or even… exposure? Lorri understood immediately the difficulty he was feeling as a result of having to talk to her, being forced to ask her for help with the problem he had not yet revealed. She awaited his response his with cool patience, experiencing an odd sensation of guilt and pity for him.

'Uh…' began his whispered retort, 'it's… I know that you're interested in these things, I realised when you fell into the Potions class this morning.'

For the second time that day, Lorri came into contact with a crumpled copy of her Valentines Day flyer, as Malfoy gingerly removed one from his pocket. His eyes remained upon the flyer as he spoke.

'Do you know… uh… Marcie?'

Lorri frowned, then squinted in consideration.

'Uhh… No?' Her bemusement had resurfaced and she scratched her head gently. Malfoy's eyes abruptly widened.

'But – but you must! She's in fifth year too, she's a Gryffindor! You must know her!'

Lorri paused. She continued to explore her mind in hope of discovering the identity of the 'Marcie' Malfoy spoke of. A number of minutes had passed (during which she employed several methods of trying to remember, including blocking her ears and humming), before Lorri gasped 'Oh!' and chuckled to herself.

'Oh… You mean Marcella!' She laughed at her blunder, 'But why do you call her Marcie?'

Malfoy appeared impassive. He merely whispered 'I don't know.'

Having disarmed any previous fear she had withheld of her captor, Lorri relaxed and leant back in her spongy armchair. Her habitual grin materialised and she simply gazed at Malfoy as she awaited him to recommence their conversation. Though Malfoy perceived her gaining calm, his collected demeanour did not meet Lorri's; he remained anxious. He rearranged his features prior to speaking next so as to appear unruffled, but his unease was still obvious.

'Uh… I need… help.' The word seemed shameful to him. Lorri leaned forward slightly, 'Marcie – uh, _Marcella… _doesn't like me.'

Lorri was expressionless. She wanted him to continue, she hoped her indifferent appearance would prompt him to explain further.

'And… I wish her to like me. I actually need her to like me. And… When you rolled into the dungeon this morning, I… Eye of Newt…'

Lorri raised an eyebrow at his irrelevant final words, though decided to remain soundless. Malfoy spoke more effectively uninterrupted.

'Okay… When you rolled into the dungeons this morning, I realised that you would be the best person to ask… In other uh – words, I brought you here… I needed to talk to you because – because I know you would the only one interested enough to help… Help secretly. Secretly.'

An anxious pause indicated that he had finished. Meanwhile, Lorri had been accumulating his words within her mind, and finally believed that she understood why they were here, why he had brought her to the Room of Requirement, why he had needed to speak to her…

She smiled at him. He had not been prepared for this gesture, and narrowed his eyes slightly. Lorri straightened herself up in her chair ceremoniously and clasped her hands.

'So, you are asking me to assist you in gaining the affections of one Marcella Bell?' Her broad grin was barely suppressed. Malfoy merely stared.

'Isn't that what I've been saying?' To his alarm, Lorri proceeded to bounce slightly up and down upon her chair, clapping her hands and giggling to herself. An air of suspicion floated upon Malfoy's face.

'You're – you're going to help? Secretly?' He added resolvedly. Lorri giggled louder.

'Oh! Of course! Of course! Yes, in secret!'

Though Malfoy was more than faintly surprised at Lorri's reaction, he exhaled deeply in relief. Abruptly, he then got to his feet. His formidable stance was a significant contrast to the pose he retained upon their initial entry to the room. He peered down at Lorri's armchair, who was still clapping.

'Well, I'm going then. I'm glad that's settled. We'll have to meet here, I guess.' He was muttering to himself more than anybody else, then he shifted his piercing gaze directly to Lorri's face and said definitely 'We'll meet here tomorrow night, at exactly eight clock. I don't want you to be late.'

Upon his final word, he turned elegantly towards the door and placed his hand on the knob. He had proceeded to turn it when Lorri's clapping ceased, and she cried,

'Wait!'

Malfoy halted, seemingly exasperated, and moved only his head in Lorri's direction, so that he could see her in his peripheral vision. She had raised a solitary finger and was now shaking it mischievously. Her face wore a stern yet amused expression.

'I will help you,' she began 'on one condition.'

Malfoy's frown was more pronounced. He turned to face her directly, arms folded.

'And what is that?'

Lorri grinned. 'That you help me with the preparations for the Valentines Day party.'

Malfoy looked aghast. He scoffed and gifted Lorri a severe expression. Lorri bit her lip. She was not one for tedious battles.

'In secret?' she suggested reproachfully.

Malfoy furrowed his brow at her, sighed and then murmured through clenched teeth, '_fine_'.

Lorri's compulsion to bounce on her seat seemed to return to her immediately, and she was clapping and giggling for several of the following minutes. However, once she had regained her composure to a sufficient point, she rotated on the spot to express her excitement to the Slytherin student, and she was confronted with the fact that he had vanished, leaving her alone within the crimson hued Room of Requirement.

Arrgh! I hate this chapter! So annoying to write, lol, but it had to be done. Also, to thequietworld92, thankyou so much for your reviews! They're awesome and they mean bundles. Have a nice day :

**ket.**


	5. The Options

Benjamin Vinely clambered through the portrait hole of Gryffindor tower a little too quickly and stumbled, colliding with one of the many spongy armchairs of his house's common room. Once he had resurfaced, his disgruntled expression was evident, and then confirmed as he kicked the back of the innocent chair. A nearby second year blinked up at him, squeaked through a trembling lower lip and hurried away to a far corner of the room. Ben appeared unaffected, as was his temper, and he sunk grumpily into a seat next to Marcella Bell, a fellow fifth year. Marcella had witnessed Ben's outburst, and was now fighting the urge to smile at his antics, though it was obvious he was in a freshly terrible mood.

'Hi, Ben. How's it going?' She spoke in a would-be casual voice, though she was cautious of evoking anymore of her friend's hassled temper than already had been. Ben didn't reply, he merely raised his head slowly, peered at Marcella from behind narrow eyes and emitted a sound alike to growling.

'Alright…' Marcella whispered to herself. She was losing an effort to finish her Potions homework; a ten inch essay detailing the various health aiding properties of Eye of Newt. She scoffed at her own lethargic attempt at writing, and indulged her quill in its endeavours to merely trace circles upon her parchment. Following several tense minutes of procrastination and enduring the fluidly evil glances Ben was shooting about the room to nobody in particular, she decided to test his case once more.

'So… Ben…' He gave up on his random bullets of hatred and shifted his gaze to Marcella. She was sifting through her brain in order to locate a thought that might lessen his anger, maybe even make him smile. After a moment, her face illuminated. 'Ben! You were in Double Potions this morning, weren't you? Wasn't that just the greatest lesson ever? I've never really seen anything like it… It was quite funny really… I was so glad that Lorri stood up to –'

But apparently Ben didn't wish to talk about Lorri's episode with Snape this morning. Marcella was mystified as, without warning, he struck the leg of her table with his foot and ejected himself from his seat with such force that it toppled over backwards. He fired a look of unyielding aggravation at the puzzled Marcella, and then charged upstairs to the boys' dormitory without uttering a single word. Left gaping in the common room, Marcella remained seated at the table with only her unenthused attempt at an essay and the injured chair to keep her company. Her pure shock at what had just happened rendered her even more unable to concentrate on her homework. She simply sat in the comfortable room for several minutes uninterrupted, warming herself by the fire. As her mind and body grew steadily lazier, her thoughts settled upon Valentines Day, and Lorri's upcoming party. She sighed, regretfully acknowledging the fact that the Slytherins were bound to ruin her evening in some form or another; Draco Malfoy was especially certain to say or do something smug in order to justify his self-proclaimed superiority. Marcella lingered upon this brain wave, and a vivid image of Malfoy's pale, sneering face and unnaturally perfect hair swam behind her eyes. She let out an involuntary grunt of disgust; sometimes she just wanted to smack him across the face. She smiled to herself, satisfied with this idea, and sunk further into her heavily cushioned chair. It suddenly dawned upon her just how heavy her eyelids were, and she closed them, breathing deeply and abandoning her confusion at Ben's tirade. The crackling flickers of the fire relaxed her even further, and she permitted the flames to dance around her mind's eye, enticing her into sleep. She inhaled the warm, slightly perfumed air and gave a tiny groan from the back of her throat. Snape's homework could wait until tomorrow… Or maybe the next day…

'Marcie? Oh – um… I mean, Marcella?'

The kindly voice was beyond Marcella's recognition. She had been drifting into a deep sleep, an undeniable sleep, and the gentle hand which now shook her forearm tenderly was certainly not welcomed. She groaned, refusing to fully acknowledge the hand's presence, and despite her reluctance, the voice was caring yet persistent.

'Marcella? Marcella, are you awake? Oh, please wake up… I don't want you to sleep down here…'

Marcella's eyelids unwillingly heaved themselves a few millimetres away from their previous point of unconscious bliss. A hazy figure stood over her, silhouetted even further by the now expiring swirls of flame within the fireplace. The voice continued to coo at her.

'Marcella, please…'

Marcella gingerly raised her hand to her eyes and rubbed them more alert. She blinked several times, attempting to gain a better focus of the blurred figure before her. She yawned widely and squinted, her eyes gradually adjusting to their unwanted removal from sleepy contentment. With every blink, she forced herself further from her groggy pleasure and steadily, the figure before her came into focus. Marcella yawned broadly once more, and the dishevelled, fatigued face of Lorri Darlington became visible inches from her own.

'Argh! Uh – Lorri?' Marcella started, gasping and rubbing her eyes furiously. Lorri beamed, and Marcella returned a feeble smile. Lorri wore a grubby patch of dirt on her nose, and her long cherry hair was tangled, drooping haphazardly among her features. She looked as though she had endured a particularly exhausting evening.

'Lorri… what?' Marcella gazed towards the window and peered out at the cold, late night beyond. 'Lorri, what time is it? Where have you been? Uh… I can't believe I fell asleep here… It was the fire, it was so warm… Nice… And I was having the loveliest daydream…'

Marcella's voice trailed away, apparently rapt in her thoughts. Lorri seemed to adopt her cue, mind vacant to her friend's inattentiveness.

'Oh yes, it's very late. A long way past bedtime. But you shouldn't be sleeping down here Marcella, the fire is dying and you don't have a blanket or anything.'

Marcella turned to her friend, her brow now wrinkled in suspicion.

'Lorri, where have you been?' She repeated.

Lorri produced a nervous giggle, and immediately cupped her mouth in her hands. When she spoke next, she did not remove them, so the sound of her throaty retort was muffled.

'Oh - nowhere. I've just – just been out, doing things for the party. You know, this and that. Ahh yes.'

Marcella frowned. Lorri was more unruffled than usual, and when Marcella opened her mouth to question her, she was cut short by the giddy redhead, still chortling and apparently determined to continue discussing the party.

'Um… Oh yes! Ah – do you – do you have a partner? For the party… my party? Uh… hmm. A partner? Like, a date? Marcie?'

Marcella merely stared. She crinkled her nose and paused for a moment.

'Marcie?' She uttered, entirely bewildered now.

'What?' Lorri said, eyes wide.

'Lorri, you just called me _Marcie_. Since when do you call me that? Nobody calls me that.'

'What? No I didn't.' Lorri said quickly. Marcella watched her through narrow eyes.

'You did. You did just then!'

'Oh Marcella, don't be silly. Why would I call you that?' Lorri was tugging at her own fingers and biting her lip timidly. She was obviously enthusiastic to redirect the conversation back to the party. 'So ahh… Do you have a partner?'

Marcella peered at Lorri worryingly.

'Um, no… I don't. Lorri, are you alright?'

'Oh yes! Fine, very fine!' Though her grin now looked as though it was more of Lorri gritting her teeth. 'Well um, Marcella. Perhaps you should ah, you know, consider your options? For the party, I mean…'

'My… _options_?' Marcella's head was titled in bemusement.

'Yes. Options. Many, many options. We should discuss your options tomorrow! At breakfast. It will be fun! But now… now… it's bedtime. I'm tired. Very tired. Uh… goodnight, Marcella! Please don't sleep here. Come upstairs. And tomorrow… Options!'

Upon her final words, Lorri had spun clumsily on the spot, stumbled slightly and all but sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Marcella remained in the common room, her expression crowded with puzzlement. She took a shallow breath and muttered to herself.

'Options?'


End file.
